


a flower in the sidewalk

by godaime_obito



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Nymphs & Dryads, Pre-Slash, i just sort of wrote it, what is this? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:58:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godaime_obito/pseuds/godaime_obito
Summary: based on the post from normal-horoscopes:The Signs and the Threshold:Scorpio: The tiny house that somehow managed to resist the explosion of metropolitan growth around it. Wood and clay are rare sights these days, and it seems that nature brims from every imperfection.the start of an urban fantasy adventure





	a flower in the sidewalk

**Author's Note:**

> thanks kat for reblogging so much from normal-horoscopes on tumblr lol

The Uchiha Estate is deep in the heart of the city. One of its oldest features, changed and updated with time, and still distinctly urban despite its age. Every Uchiha alive lives in it or nearby it and the stone walls and watchful eyes feel suffocating. Obito feels his differences most acutely when the others are nearby. On days like this, when the estate is its busiest, the mystery of his parentage haunts him the most. The child of an Uchiha man who died in a car accident and a strange woman who nobody seemed to know. He can’t remember her, she dispersed when he was only two, and when he asks the older clan members just say she vanished around the same time the city tore down the old park that was near sixth street. It would be much more useful to know her name or where she was from.

It feels like the city is mocking him. Obito needs to get out of here. He’s certain if he did sneak off to the nearest patch of proper grass every few weeks he would wilt like the sad attempts at greenery in the city that the smog chokes out. Or his pyromaniac family burns down. Shisui can say it was an accident all he wants, but Obito wasn’t born yesterday.

He jumps down the back fire escape and makes his way through the familiar back allies. When the estate is out of sight he stops to breath in and almost chokes. Still smoggy. It gets worse every year too. Obito is about to head towards the nearest subway entrance to catch a train away from the city center when he _feels_ something. Cocking his head in the direction of the feeling, he decides _why not?_ He spins on his heel and heads towards it. It’s funny, he’s lived in this city his whole life and never explored all of it. The further he goes the less familiar it becomes.

Obito’s run off without thinking again. He probably should’ve continued on towards the subway and taken it towards the feeling, because this is a long walk. It takes two hours to begin to reach a newer section of town, fresh metropolitan growth plastered overtop of a place trees used to be. The city really does have worse air quality every year and it all started with that park nearly thirty years ago. Someone elected to the council back then must have some sort of weird grudge against plants.

What is this feeling about? It’s newer sure, but it’s the same. He’s about to turn back, or look for a bus stop, when he sees it. A tiny house sandwiched between concrete and unpleasant brutalist architecture. It’s completely out of place, clay and wood, no concrete, no stone. A small green yard, growing well despite everything, full of flowers and bushes, and vines reaching to the roof, winding in the windows. Nature peaks through every crack and bit of unevenness. A foil to the blank _, ugly_ , perfection of everything else. The feeling emanates from it, stronger than before, like distant singing in his head.

“There’s no need to stand all the way over there! Come on in!” a man cheers from the now open wooden door. Obito hadn’t realized he’d been gaping from the sidewalk until he spoke. How embarrassing, getting caught staring at a house like a weirdo by the very tall, very handsome owner. Who did he kill for hair that long and smooth?

“Thank you,” he says. He’s come this far, he might as well go into the strange house. With the man who potentially performs dark magic as his hair routine.

The house is as earthy and overgrown on the inside as it is on the out. “Welcome to my home! I’m Hashirama,” he introduces himself. “The city presses further and further out, but I’m far too old to be moved,” he jokes.

“Obito Uchiha,” he offers, “You don’t look that old.” If he focuses it seems like the singing may be coming from Hashirama, not the house.

“Flatterer,” he chuckles, “you know aging doesn’t work that way for dryads like us. Would you like green tea?”

 _Dryads like us?_ “Yes please,” Obito replies vacantly. He thought the dryads were all dead. Was his mother a dryad? This explains so much and yet brings up so many new questions. Did bulldozing that park kill her? This is making her head hurt.

“You must actually be pretty young or at least come from far away. I haven’t run into you before,” he says with a hum, sitting two cups of two down at a small wooden table. “Don’t just stand there! Have a seat!”

“I’m just thirty-one. This is going to seem weird, but” he says nervously, “are you sure I’m a dryad, because no one’s ever told me that before? Not that a doubt you’re one at this point, with the weird house, and the plants, and the mysterious singing noise, and the unnaturally smooth hair.” When he finishes stuttering that out he finally registers the offer to sit down. He does.

“Oh my,” Hashirama frets, “that’s not right at all. You’re definitely at least half. The urban expansion must have gotten to your dryad parent before they told you.”

“Heh. My mother was killed by _urban expansion_. Literally. The fuck.” He picks up his cup and takes a big, scalding, gulp.

“This is my fault, I’ve been sitting around ignoring things just because they haven’t hurt me yet,” he wails. Perking up suddenly he declares, “The song of Fate has called you to me to send me on the right path-” What? “-it’s time for use to get to work!”

“Us?” Obito questions, placing his tea back down. He has a bad feeling about this.

“We’ve got to stop the expansion! Get rid of the smog! The song of Fate says to,” he explains.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We just met. What if I’m a weirdo. I did find me standing and gaping outside your house,” he counters.

“Nonsense. Fate wouldn't lie, and besides, how could I not trust someone as handsome as you?”

“You’re the handsome one!” Obito’s mouth says, betraying him.

“There you go with the flattery again. Such a charmer,” he grins, “We’ll be a great team. I can feel it.”

“You are the only person who’s ever thought of me as charming. Probably the only one who ever will.”

Hashirama reaches across the table, taking Obito’s hand in his own. “Can I take that as I yes?” he asks, running his thumb back and forth over his knuckles.

“…sure.” At least he won’t have to go back to the Uchiha Estate.


End file.
